Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  He was soon deep in the records, cross-checking his references. Tagerill shook his head at his single-mindedness and idly read the name of the books on the bookshelf opposite. A title picked out in gold leaf caught his eye, and he pulled the slender book off the shelf. “A Treatise on the Origins of Remargaren.” Tagerill glanced across at Jerrol, deep in his research and oblivious to what Tagerill was doing. He drew back a chair, sat down, and opened the book and began to read.

  ‘It is a commonly held belief by the general populous that the great ancestors of the Lady of the Guardians created the wonderful World of Remargaren. But who was this powerful family? Who had the amazing ability and fortitude to create a world out of nothing? And if they created the World of Remargaren, then where did they originate? These are just a few of the questions this simple treatise seeks to answer.’

  Tagerill flipped back to the front plate and checked who wrote the book. The author was a scholar, and Tagerill stilled.

  The date of publication was just after the sundering of the Bloodstone. This pamphlet was written almost three thousand years ago. Gingerly, he placed it back on the table and turned the page. Silence fell.

  They were disturbed by a clatter of hooves, which slid to a halt in the courtyard outside the library. A spray of gravel clicked against the stone steps, hinting at the urgency of the arrival. Jerrol stirred and looked up as Tagerill peered out of the window. “Courier, by the looks of it,” he grunted and left the room. When Jerrol heard Tagerill exclaim, he stood and followed him out of the door.

  “Captain, it’s Frenerion from Greenswatch,” Tagerill said, his face pale. Frenerion was the Grove Sentinal that Jerrol had assigned to support Versillion, the incumbent Greenswatch Sentinal. He was a stockily built older man, dark-haired, and with the inevitable silver eyes.

  “You’d better come inside,” Jerrol said, a sense of foreboding colouring his voice. “It would be best if we’re not overheard.” He led the way back inside the library. “What’s happened?” he asked once the door was safely shut behind them.

  “Lord Aaron has abducted Lady Alyssa,” Frenerion reported. “Master Garrick was wounded. He was with the lady when they were attacked by a group of bandits within the grounds of Greenswatch. Versillion says to tell you that the lady is unharmed but restrained in Deepwater. Sentinal Denirion of Deepwater reports that he stands ready for the Captain’s orders and watches developments.

  “Lord Simeon says he did not feel empowered to attack a neighbouring Watch, even with provocation. Versillion advises to await the king’s direction, and although he doesn’t say it, it looks like Deepwater has fallen even further into disrepute.”

  “The king will have to act,” Jerrol murmured as he rubbed a hand over his face. Hissing out an impatient breath, he paced back and forth. He should have paid more note to Taelia’s warning. “I should have known it would be Aaron causing trouble. Come with me.” He led the way out of the archives. They followed him to the king’s throne room, Jerrol silently calling King Benedict as he went.

  The Oath flared to life as he entered, pulsing before settling into a golden glow. Frenerion’s jaw dropped as he followed and saw the brilliantly lit words engraved in the stone wall behind the throne. They were even more surprised when shortly after, King Benedict strode into the throne room unattended, his gaze also drawn to the glowing words over his throne.

  He inspected Jerrol, who knelt as soon as he entered, closely followed by the Sentinals.

  “What is so urgent?”

  Jerrol rose and introduced Frenerion, explaining his sudden arrival from Greenswatch.

  The king sighed and sat upon his throne, leaning heavily on the arm. “I assume this location,” he said, indicating his throne room, “is to remind me of my oath to protect the Watches?”

  “Your Majesty, you have never forgotten your oath. This is the closest location for both of us.”

  The king raised an eyebrow, but let it pass. “Very well, Sentinal Frenerion,” he said formally. “Let’s hear it.”

  Frenerion repeated his report, finishing with Lord Simeon’s request and the Sentinals’ concerns.

  The king’s face grew grimmer as he finally came to an end. “Lord Aaron overreaches himself. I think he needs to be reminded of what being a Lord of the Watch means. Jerrol, accompany me to my office. Tagerill, escort Frenerion to the barracks and show him where to freshen up and rest, then join us,” the king instructed, rising from his throne. He turned at the door and glanced back at the glowing Oath. “I never tire of it,” he said.

  Jerrol grinned. “Which is fortunate, as I understand it’s not something I can turn off.”

  “True,” the king replied, leading the way out of the throne room, collecting Fonorion, who was lurking outside the door having tracked the king after he had suddenly upped and left his chambers without a word.

  Birlerion slid in behind Jerrol’s shoulder.

  10

  King’s Palace, Old Vespers

  Lady Miranda hovered on the staircase, torn between needing to know and being beholden to a Sentinal. She almost hesitated too long. Tagerill strode down the corridor towards the door that led into the depths of the palace. He would be out of earshot soon.

  “Sentinal Tagerillion,” she called.

  Tagerill spun at the sound of her voice, stopping in surprise. “Lady Miranda!”

  “Is it true?” she asked, hovering in the shadows.

  “Is what true?” Tagerill peered up at her, trying to see her in the dim light.

  “That Aaron has kidnapped Alyssa; stolen her away from Greenswatch.”

  Tagerill mounted the stairs to grasp her hands. “How did you—”

  “Servant chatter,” she said, clinging to him. “Is it true?”

  Tagerill nodded. “I am afraid so.”

  “To what end?”

  “Because he wanted to. I think he grows arrogant.”

  “What will the king do?”

  “Deal with Deepwater once and for all, no doubt.”

  “But what of Alyssa?” Lady Miranda’s hands spasmed in his.

  Tagerill drew her down the stairs and into a nearby chamber; a glance confirmed it was empty. He closed the door. “What do you know, Lady Miranda? What is scaring you?”

  Lady Miranda pulled her hands out of his grasp and turned her face away. “I—I heard,” she began with difficulty.

  “What did you hear?” he prompted.

  “That the brothers were casting spells that undermine a person’s will; that they trample through memories and make a person into someone who will only do their bidding without question.”

  “The brothers?”

  “Yes, the brotherhood of the Ascendants.” Lady Miranda began pacing, unable to keep still. “I can’t tell you anymore.”

  “Why not? If it will help save your child?”

  “Do you think they would do that to Alyssa?”

  “She seems a strong-willed young lady, much like her mother. And they tried once before. We interrupted Mer’iteras trying to enspell her during Simeon’s confirmation. If they tried once, there is no reason they won’t try again.”

  Lady Miranda wrung her hands together. “I can’t betray them. I owe everything to the princess; she has supported me throughout. I can’t betray her trust.” Lady Miranda looked at Tagerill earnestly. “They are not bad people. They are just trying to right a wrong. Why shouldn’t the Ascendants have the right to live their lives here, too?”

  Tagerill raised an eyebrow. “I thought they did. No one is stopping them.”

  “The Lady didn’t protect all the people. What about the Ascendants left behind? Those not practising? They were abandoned, left with nothing.”

  “They were left to live in peace, the same as everyone else who lived in Vespiri,” Tagerill replied, watching her.

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  Lady Miranda took a turn around the room, shaking her skirts out in agitation. �
��They were hunted, targeted, killed for being the children of the Ascendants. Driven underground to save their lives and the lives of their children. The Lady didn’t think about that when she cast them out, did she?”

  Tagerill stared at her, shocked. “Leyandrii would never cast them out. She was and is only interested in protecting the world for all the people who live in it. I have never seen any sign of this. Do you believe this is prevalent across Vespiri?”

  “It’s prevalent across Remargaren, not just Vespiri!”

  “Says who?”

  “So say those who preach for the return of the Ascendants and the saviours of their heritage.”

  “I need proof. Hearsay and rhetoric will not sway the king.”

  “You would help the Ascendants’ cause?”

  “I would help anyone who is unable to live freely. But I do not support the Ascendants right to overthrow the Lady and destroy our world,” he said. “If the Lady hadn’t brought down the Veil, there wouldn’t be a world for us to live in. Look around you. This city is nothing like what it used to be. The old city of Vespers lies under our feet. Only the rooftops of the chapterhouse exist. The Land protected itself against the attacks and rose to block the magical forces that would have destroyed it, and as a result destroyed much of the city as we knew it.”

  “Maybe the land was rebelling against the rule of the Lady, not the Ascendants?”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  Lady Miranda huffed and took another agitated turn around the room. “Look what she did to you; locked away for over three thousand years. What reward was that for your service?”

  A small smile hovered over Tagerill’s lips as he watched her; she was enchanting and passionate. “Ah, but I get to live now in a world with you in it.”

  Lady Miranda froze and turned haughty eyes upon him, ready to take offence. Her face softened as she saw his expression. “Oh, Tagerill,” she whispered. “What are we going to do?”

  Tagerill reached for her and engulfed her in a warm hug. He smiled into her hair as she hugged him back.

  “Meet in the middle,” he said as he lifted her chin, his silver eyes intent. “Compromise is always possible if both parties want it,” he murmured, his head dipping towards her rising face. Their lips touched, and their clutch on each other tightened.

  The soft snick of the door opening interrupted them. Jennery peered around the door, eyes lighting as he saw Tagerill. Tagerill spun, biting off a curse before it left his lips. Lady Miranda hid her face in his shoulder.

  “Apologies for the intrusion. Tagerill?” Jennery jerked his head out the door.

  Tagerill lifted Lady Miranda’s face. “Duty calls. We will find Alyssa; try not to worry,” he said as he dropped a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room in Jennery’s wake.

  “You kept that quiet, didn’t you?” Jennery asked with a strained grin.

  “So will you, if you know what’s good for you,” Tagerill warned.

  Jennery laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. Anyway, the king wants us. It sounds like we’ll get to relieve Deepwater, after all.”

  “What does the Captain say?”

  “He’s in with the king. He sent for us,” Jennery said as they headed towards the king’s chambers.

  Tagerill gripped his shoulder. “We will get her back,” he promised.

  Jennery paused at the door. “We should have seen this coming. We should have known Aaron wouldn’t take defeat lying down.” Jennery made a fist, his muscles tight. “If I get hold of Aaron’s scrawny neck …” he said, his rugged face bleak.

  “Hush, remember he is not himself. We may be able to redeem him for his mother’s sake, if nothing else. Lady Olivia’s already lost her husband, if we can prevent her losing her son as well, that would be a boon, I think.”

  Jennery exhaled and shook out his hand before tapping on the door. Darris, the king’s steward, opened it. Jerrol and the king were poring over the map spread out on the table, watched by a third man dressed in the uniform of the Commander of the King’s Justice; the newly appointed Commander Fenton. He was straight-backed and precise, and he stood inspecting his neatly trimmed fingernails as the king and his captain discussed options.

  Fonorion, the quiet, dark-haired Sentinal, who was the king’s personal guard, stood by the wall talking to Birlerion and Parsillion.

  King Benedict straightened and stretched. “We are agreed, then?” he asked, glancing between the fastidious commander and Jerrol. “Captain, please brief your people.”

  “Yes, sire. Lieutenant Jennery and Sentinal Frenerion will return to Greenswatch to collect a unit to march on Deepwater. They will engage from the south at dawn and draw out as many of Aaron’s men as possible. You are the distraction, Jennery, so be noisy. We are aware of guardhouses here and here,” Jerrol said, pointing at marks on the map. “They have at least one garrison of men, all of similar calibre, but don’t underestimate them; they may be sloppy, but there are a lot of them. Sentinal Tagerill and I will skirt the Watch and enter from the north with Birlerion and a unit of the King’s Rangers. We will awaken Denirion and rescue Lady Alyssa before you strike.

  “Birlerion will lead the King’s Rangers, who will accompany us and sweep through the house, taking out any remaining men. They’ll then come to meet you. Once we have relieved Deepwater of its current inhabitants, we will instigate the king’s rule until the Guardian is reinstated and sweep the Watch for any further dissidents. Any questions?”

  “Is the objective to capture Lord Aaron, sir?” Jennery asked, his face stiff and unyielding.

  “The objective is to save Lady Alyssa and reclaim the Watch for the king. If anyone surrenders and it’s safe to take them captive, do so, if not, no quarter. We will not lose any of our own over this. We have larger battles to wage. Take no risks.” Jerrol glared at Jennery, who held up his hands in surrender.

  Commander Fenton’s cold voice interrupted them. “We don’t know if this is Lord Aaron’s move or if it is driven by the Ascendants, which calls into question whether Aaron is in thrall or whether he has thrown his lot in with them, which would be treason.

  “That is not our decision to make. You will have a King’s Inquisitor with you to interrogate those you capture. You do not have the right to execute Lord Aaron. The Inquisitor will make that decision. Understood?” Fenton looked around the room. The men nodded, acknowledging his orders. “Good. You move out immediately. By tomorrow, I expect to be advising the king that he has his Watch back.”

  11

  Deepwater Watch

  Alyssa awoke to find herself lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. She felt distinctly queasy, and as she opened her eyes, the room spun. She shut them again, shuddering as an unladylike burp escaped her lips. Her tummy was definitely unhappy.

  Sitting up, she swung her legs over the bed, pausing for a moment to hold herself upright. She heaved and frantically cast about for something to throw up in; a basin, a bucket, anything. She saw nothing useful except a vase of flowers; she emptied it on the floor and repeatedly threw up in the vase.

  Drained, she sat on the bed, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. Her throat burned. She still wore her riding habit. Yes, that was right; she had been out riding with Garrick. Her lips tightened. The similarities of the ambush with her father to the attack on herself and Garrick were frighteningly clear. She hoped Garrick was alright; he had gone down under the bandit’s rush. They should have been safe enough within the grounds of Greenswatch. Those were no bandits.

  Alyssa put the vase down on the floor and tottered over to the window. She reached for the cord and pulled the heavy blue curtains open. Shading her eyes against the brilliant glare of an orange sunset, she realized she had been unconscious for most of the day and that she was no longer in Greenswatch. She recognized the view. A tall sentinal tree graced the grassy slope next to the lake.

  “Deepwater?” she uttered out loud in surprise as the door to her room opened.

  The young
lord of Deepwater, whom she had once thought so handsome, with his blond hair and pretty looks, hovered on the threshold. “You’re awake at last. The fools gave you too much.” He wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell. “You are unwell?” he asked, his gaze skimming her pale face.

  “Something disagreed with me. I don’t feel well at all.”

  “Let me find you some help.” He turned and spoke to someone hovering behind him.

  “What am I doing here? How did I get to Deepwater?” Alyssa demanded, gripping the curtain.

  “We’ll deal with that later,” Aaron promised. “Let’s make you comfortable first. Your maid will assist you.”

  “My maid?” Alyssa repeated, confused. “Is Millie here, too?”

  “I procured a new maid for your use. Just tell her what you need. She is here to serve you as the new mistress of Deepwater,” Aaron said as he backed out the door and ushered a young girl into the room. He shut the door behind her. The lock clicked shut.

  Alyssa stared at the girl. She was very young, dressed in a shapeless shift, and nervously fidgeting under Alyssa’s glare. “And you are?” she asked, holding a hand to her head, which thumped painfully. She let go of the curtains, allowing them to block the brilliant sun.

  The child dipped her knees in a travesty of a curtsey and spoke. “Please, miss, if you tell me what you need, I’ll help get it for you. I am to do whatever you tell me to.”

  “If I tell you to unlock the door, will you?”

  “Miss?” The child stared at her, confused.

  Alyssa held her head. This didn’t make any sense. “Go fetch some hot water and towels. I need to freshen up, and I need some mint tea to settle my stomach. Oh, and take that vase away and empty it,” she said, pointing at the vase; the smell made her nauseous. She waited to see if the child would be able to leave the room, but the door opened at her soft tap, and she slipped out the gap before the door closed again and locked behind her.